Citizen Erased
by Citizen-Erased
Summary: Inspired by Muse - depression, suffering and suicide


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**The lyrics are taken from the song "Citizen Erased", written by Matt Bellamy from the group Muse. I have no claim to them and I don't believe that suicide is the right way to go. This is fiction. I can't be held responsible for anyone's actions!**

**Citizen Erased**

I'm sure I used to be so free

Emptiness all around me. Consumed entirely by loneliness and now just festering. Being left to rot while everyone else has happiness and their laughter resonates all over. Mocking laughter. Paranoia feeds and grows.

I wonder if it's truly possible to be cleansed, but it's much more likely that you can never escape the past, escape the throbbing pain and constant aching of the soul. Nothing ever used to matter. Now this. Living depression, paranoia and angst. I wonder if the sea would cleanse me. I stand on the stony sands, watching out over the waters, seeing nothing but the turmoil of a crashing mind. Emptiness. Would it matter if they didn't have me around? I'm not sure anyone would really care. They pretend to have concern, but it's just a façade for their real thoughts. They wish I'd just get on with it and leave them in peace. Maybe I'd find my peace. If the sea washed over me.

Wash me away 

_Clean your body of me_

My head is aching. The memories are coming back and I never seem to find the good ones. Only negativity envelops me. I'm not strong enough for this. I don't think that I deserve these feelings, I don't think anyone does, but I can never be sure anymore of how real my thoughts are. I've forgotten what _is _real. What is real happiness and real love? I'm only aware of real pain and misery, but what if it gets worse than this? I wouldn't be strong enough, even if I may be now. I'm not coping at the moment as it is; I'm forced to wander onto this lonely beach with only my depressing thoughts for company. I can't get away from myself. Away from the depressing memories.

Erase all the memories 

_They'll only bring us pain_

Here's my theory: Why should I only be hurting on the inside, when it's the whole world that gives me the pain in the first place? Why should I be receiving so much mental anguish, constantly being battered down into submission and tortured by continuous rejection? I've got hideous internal scars that are forever haunting me, because they never seem to heal, as they can be ripped open so easily, whenever someone treads carelessly and mentions a bad memory. I may as well show the world my scars; they can't see the holes in my soul. Wrists are proof though, but I've never dared before to go any further. Further is dangerous…further is setting out into some unknown world that I don't have the faintest idea about. It could be better, yet it could be worse, although what's worse that the inescapable pain of a trapped mind, a trapped soul? I can't even bear to imagine, it only makes my feeling of despair and isolation clearer and so much more imminent. 

Self-harm helps up to a certain point. It provides release from the searing, tearing thoughts inside my head. Whenever I try to resist taking a blade, the thoughts just eat away at me, and there is no escape – only the release of seeing my own blood. I think I must need counselling. But will it work? I've attempted so many so-called solutions, but none of them have worked for me. I'm reaching the edge, and soon I'm going to fall over it. My mind is isolated from the real world now, and in turn this has isolated me from the real people. But more often than not, they're the people who hurt me. I'm not sure when I lost my trust. Probably on one of the many occasions when I felt the sting of rejection. 

The wind is beating against my face, making my clothes flap around me. It feels refreshing and I've chosen the right place to come. People screaming, shouting, crying and hating. It's all in my head, all I can hear now. I need the release. Finally. I brought something with me to the beach, something that I took from the bathroom cabinet. Just a single blade that I need. It would do the job. It would work. I've never gone this far before, and will I now? When it comes to it, will I dare myself to push the blade that little bit further, that little bit deeper? The pain is only momentary – numbness will overcome me. I know it. So why am I pausing, to doubt my situation? The screaming, the crying, the howling…tears. Bloodshed. I can't give myself a life of that. The counselling won't work. Maybe it will…but it wouldn't. The battle inside my head that I've relived so many times before. Only this time, one side is stronger than the other.

Without properly realising what I've done, the stinging sensation has begun to flood through my left arm. The blade dragged against skin, cutting intensely. Deeper than before. Blood creeping from within, pouring out onto the surface. Still pushing further, focusing on the release. The sweet release and the day of rest and tranquillity from a tortured mind. 

The blade falls onto the stony sands. Sinking to my knees. Lying on the shore, the water rushing over my feet, my legs, and my stomach. Cleansing me. Cleansing me of the past, the depression, the paranoia and the shadows. The backwash is turning red. Black patches are closing over me.

The memories again, but this time, they're happy memories. And I'm remembering the people who love me, and I'm feeling sorry. Sorry for what I've done, sorry for being so selfish and not pulling through for the people who love me. My mind is battling with my body…I have to get up. I have to get to a hospital. The blackness is consuming. I can't get up. I'm sorry.

_And I've seen_

_All I'll ever need_


End file.
